What Is This Magic? – Unusual Short Story
Photo credit: mimicry from morguefile.com
The forest was dark, with an eerie feeling, yet it was beautiful. Rays of sunlight poked through every branch between the leaves and twigs, casting golden pools upon the ground. I was an explorer who left my family behind. Picnicking was a dull activity. I wished to duck beneath the thick branches of trees and climb over monstrous roots that came up from the ground. I longed for streams to leap across and rivers to daringly swim across. I knew not what was in store for me further ahead. It seemed as though a path had been made for me, with golden flowers lining either side of me. Perhaps my overactive imagination had taken its toll, but the trees seemed to part for me, as though I was a ruler returning to my throne. What was this magic?
Had I gone crazy? I would not turn back now, for my wish had come true as I entered the clearing. The grass seemed to sparkle as it was bathed in the golden drops of the sun. A stream ran through the middle of it, beautiful and trickling. The golden flowers were plentiful. The air smelled sweet, almost like honeysuckle, and the air was suddenly warm and welcoming. It felt as though the sun had arms that were wrapped tightly around my entire body. My chest sank as my breathing slowed. A feeling of sleepiness and serenity fell over me. What was this magic?
I sat by the stream, dipping my fingers into the water, watching as it slid between my fingers with the current. The water was perfectly cool and clear. I brought my fingers to my lips, tasting it. Never had any water tasted so pure and crisp. My hands dipped several times into the stream until I had quenched my previously unnoticed thirst. The insides of my stomach were warm, which was odd. The water had been so refreshingly cool. Again I thought, “What is this magic?”
I had never experienced anything like it. This place was quiet, peaceful, beautiful, and even heavenly. The only sounds were the trickling of the stream and the melodious singing of the birds.
“This must be a dream,” I spoke softly to myself.
I was at such ease that even talking was difficult. All I wished to do was rest my head on the soft, tickling grass and sleep. The fire of my senses was reignited, however. A twig snapped, a sudden noise that made my heart almost leap from my chest. Was this dream meant to be a nightmare? Was some terrifying creature going to kill me? Had some hideously ugly man come to kidnap me?
“It is just a dream,” I told myself.
What I then saw was something magical, something harmless, something I had never seen before, a creature that I had only read about. It sent my mind reeling. Myth was myth. Legend was legend. Had I entered a Narnian reality?
“Certainly not,” I scoffed.
The creature looked at me so curiously. I probably had the same expression on my face as I looked at him. Unicorns, centaurs, dragons, fairies, etc.: these were all just creatures of fiction and fantasy. This was not a unicorn nor a centaur nor a dragon. It was a faun. I wondered if he talked or sounded like a goat. Perhaps he could not talk at all. He just stared at me. He had no weapons. He had no evil glint in his eyes. He just stood still and stared. I let my gaze drop to his feet. Usually there would be toes there, but all I saw were hoofs. He looked down at my feet as well. I humored him and removed my shoes, wiggling my toes. It warmed my heart when I saw him smile. He leaned down, dipping his hands in the stream, drinking some of the fresh water. I could see beads of sweat sliding down the skin of his head. His horns were only a few inches long. His hair was short and a dark brown, almost black, color.
As I stepped closer to examine him more, he held his hand in front of me, motioning me to stop. I had hoped he would speak, but he made no sound. He looked down at the golden flowers along the edge of the stream, leaning down and gently prodding one with his forefinger. A breeze suddenly blew throughout this clearing. The trees swayed, as if dancing. The flowers moved in the same motion as the trees. Leaves fell from the trees and blew towards me. The swirled around my body, lightly grazing the skin of my arms occasionally. After several moments, the wind ceased. The faun had been staring down at the flowers the entire time, waiting. What was he waiting for? He gently pulled a flower from its stem, moving it closer to his face. As he turned to finally face me, he smiled, blowing softly against the flower. It seemed to awaken from a slumber as it moved. The flower transformed, the petals moving backwards as a body sprung forth from the center. A fairy. A tiny, golden fairy. The faun blew softly against the flower again, blowing it in my direction. I held my hands out as the fairy flew towards me, landing in the palm of my hand so gently and gracefully. I examined this new magical creature, with its sparkling wings and curvy body. Its skin was the same color as mine, just slightly paler. It kissed my hand, bowing sweetly before folding back into its flowery form. Once I looked up from the flower, the faun was gone. The magic seemed to have disappeared with the faun. The sun seemed to shine dimmer, and the stream seemed to be less clear and sparkling. The trees and flowers were still. The grass was just a normal grassy color. I looked down in my hand at the flower, longing for the magic to return. Pulling the flower close to my chest, I slowly began the journey back to my family’s picnic. My mind was still racing, partially in denial of what had just occurred. I would never give up that flower. It would forever serve as a memory.
Years passed. The flower never faded in color or wilted. The night I had brought the flower home, I discovered that it would change back into the fairy. Every night since then, I have cracked my window, allowing the fairy to freely wander as I slept. Each morning, it would rest on my bedside table exactly where I had placed it that night. My dreams would always take me back to that place, back to the faun. I felt in my heart that the fairy returned there each night as I slept. I longed to follow it, but my heart also told me that I would never see the faun again. Perhaps that is why he had given me the gift of the fairy. Maybe he always wanted to exist in my memory. Whatever his motif was, it had been successful. I cherish the gift each day, and he will never fade from my memory. To this day I still think to myself,
“What was that magic?”
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